


Deep Breaths

by writergal85



Category: The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23917909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergal85/pseuds/writergal85
Summary: Adele gets news her father has been in an accident.
Relationships: Adele Rochester & Edward Rochester, Grace Poole & Edward Rochester, Jane Eyre & Edward Rochester, Jane Eyre/Adele Rochester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Deep Breaths

Adele waited in the foyer with her coat on, kicking her feet against the legs of the bench. There was no one around to tell her not to.

Jane was coming back. Jane was coming back, and everything would be all right. Deep breaths. Jane was coming back, and everything would be all right. Jane was coming back and Daddy—

She sobbed and hugged her stuffed cat closer to her chest. When the police had called nearly an hour ago, they wouldn't tell her anything—only that her dad had been in an accident.

"What kind of accident? What happened? Is he all right?"

"He's in the hospital."

"But he's gonna be all right?"

"What's your name, sweetie?"

She started to cry. "Adele. Is—Is my dad dead?"

"How old are you, Adele?"

"I'm 9, but I took advanced biology last year, I can understand—"

"Is there a Ms. Poole there? Can you go get her?"

"Grace doesn't work here anymore, but I can—"

"We really need to talk to Grace Poole."

"What happened to my dad?! Why won't you tell me?"

"We need to talk to Grace Poole."

Her dad had always told her, if there was an emergency, call Grace. If anything ever happened to him or to her, call Grace. Grace would fix everything.

"Hello? Adele? Are you there?"

"I'll call her. I'll call Grace."

She'd hung up and called Grace immediately. She didn't see Grace as often now, not since all the bad stuff had happened with her dad's company, but she still had her number at the top of her contacts list. She tried to speak slowly and calmly, so Grace wouldn't get impatient and snap at her, but tears jumbled all her words: police, accident, Daddy, dead, COME NOW. She didn't even realize she was speaking French until Grace told her she didn't understand.

And then she put Jane on the phone. Jane, who had just disappeared without ever saying goodbye. Adele started crying all over again. It was only after Jane's "we love you" and her promise that they were coming to get her that she was able to stop crying long enough to pull on her coat and shoes.

She didn't know where exactly Jane had gone. Whenever she asked her dad, he insisted he didn't know, and after a while, she began to believe him. She wasn't sure if he still watched Jane's videos, but she did, secretly. She figured out Jane must be somewhere in Vancouver. At the beginning, she searched for more specific clues, hoping that Jane might let an address or place name slip, and she dreamed of showing up at Jane's new home as a surprise to convince her to come back. Dad was different now. Better, she'd tell her. He ate dinner with her every night, he was teaching her piano and they drank tea together, even though he wasn't very good at making it the way Jane used to. He picked her up from school most days, and the day she got her braces, he took the whole day off work to make her soup and sit on the couch, watching movies and eating ice cream with her.

He even talked to her about Beth (It felt weird to call her Mom, even in her head). He told her all about how they met at school, how she loved to sing, how graceful she was when she danced, how she could read a book and remember it almost word-for-word—it was uncanny how she remembered everything. She was so smart, so much smarter than him, he said. And they always had fun together, until she got sick.

"Was it because of me?" she'd asked, after Googling postpartum depression.

Her dad's eyes widened and he got really quiet. "Uh, no. No, Adele it wasn't because of you. She was—she is just—" he sighed. "She had a lot of problems for a long time, but no one listened. I didn't listen. I wasn't around enough. And sometimes, people—they just get sick, their brains just get sick." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry I'm not making any sense."

"Will she ever get better?" she asked, remembering what she'd read about "chemical imbalances," how sometimes medications and therapy could help. Maybe they could help Beth.

"I don't know. Maybe. Anything's possible." he said in a sad way that made her think it probably wasn't. He took a deep breath. "But I'd like for you to meet her, if you want to."

She'd only seen Beth twice, during very short visits with her dad. Beth reminded her of the china dolls her dad had brought back from Paris once: very beautiful, but cold and fragile, not the kind of toys you could cuddle in bed during a stormy night. She never said anything, only stared blankly, and when Adele held her hand once, her bones felt so light she thought they might break if she gripped too hard.

She could see what her dad meant when he said Beth needed to stay in her wing of house, where she could get the medical care she needed and maybe get well again. Until then, she needed to be in a place where she was kept safe; the outside world might break her.

And then one day, no one was at the front of the school to pick Adele up in the afternoon. That hadn't happened since before Jane; Grace or her dad had always been waiting in the line of cars to take her home. She'd called her dad's cell first, but he hadn't answered. She'd tried not panic—deep breaths—but she'd been worried about him lately, ever since Jane left. She'd called the house next, and Grace had answered.

"Rochester residence, Grace Poole speaking."

"Grace? Is my dad there? He was supposed to come to get me—"

"Adele? Um, where are you?"

"I'm at school. It's 3 o'clock. Dad was supposed to pick me up and take me to my fencing lesson."

There was a pause on the line, then: "3 o'clock, of course. I'll come get you."

A cold lick of fear curled in her stomach. Deep breaths. "Grace? Is Dad okay?"

"He's fine, Adele. He's just busy right now. I'll be there soon."

Later that afternoon, after she'd come home from fencing and was in the breakfast nook eating a snack left for her by Ricardo, Grace had told her what had happened. Beth had died; she'd taken too much of her medication and it had killed her.

"Your father is sorting out the arrangements for her funeral now and won't be available to teach you piano this evening," she'd said.

"Oh." A peculiar numbness settled in her chest. Should she be sad? Should she cry? She didn't know what to do. She'd never really had a mother, and now she wouldn't ever, because Beth was dead. It wasn't fair.

Grace sniffled and ran a hand across her eyes. Was she crying? She'd never seen Grace cry before, and that made her feel more afraid than anything. She reached for her hand. "Grace? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Adele. But thank you." She'd patted her hand, just once, before standing and smoothing the wrinkles from her pencil skirt. "I should talk to Ricardo about dinner, tell him to put something on a tray for your father." Adele could still remember how her heels had clicked across the cold tile in small echoes all the way down the hall.

Of course later, Adele felt sad for her dad, and for Grace and for the mother she never knew. But she had also wondered, after the funeral, if Jane might come back. Without her, and with her dad once again locked away in his office for most of the day and night, the house felt quiet, cold and empty. It never felt like that when Jane was around. Jane belonged with them.

Adele knew things couldn't be exactly the way they used to be. Jane and her dad would never get married now. But maybe that was a good thing. Jane could just come back and tutor her. They could paint and watch movies and read books and visit the aquarium together. If Jane came back, maybe she could make her dad would come out of his office and talk to her again. Maybe everything would be okay.

Her dad had to be okay—he had to. Jane said everything would be okay.

She hugged the stuffed cat tighter. Deep breaths. Jane was coming back. Jane was coming back and everything would be all right. Deep breaths.

She heard the sound of a car coming down the driveway and swung open the door. She saw Grace get out, then Jane, and she couldn't wait any longer. She ran the short distance, and hugged her, holding on tight as she could.

"Hey, it's okay," Jane said. "It's gonna be okay. Deep breaths, remember?"


End file.
